


Clockwork and Color

by kitlaurie



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitlaurie/pseuds/kitlaurie
Summary: In which Edvard Johansen discovers that it is completely possible to embarrass your way into a woman's heart.A small story of Jesper's parents being young, awkward and hopelessly in love.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen's Father/Jesper Johanssen's Mother
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Clockwork and Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisondraws](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lisondraws).



> A silly little love story written for Lisondraws, who came up with and designed Dahlia and helped me name Edvard and flesh out his character. We've talked so much about these characters I feel like I could write an entire Jane Austen style novel about them! But this will have to do for now!
> 
> You can find Dahlia's design (as well as some bonus Edvard and Little Jespie!) here:
> 
> [Meet Dahlia Johansen](https://lisondraws.tumblr.com/post/190779226519/i-took-a-break-from-work-to-design-jespers-mom)
> 
> (Which I suggest you take a look at both because it's great art and character design and because I give basically no physical descriptions in this fic. Oops.)
> 
> Hopefully this turned out alright, it's my first time writing a pairing that isn't Jesper/Klaus. (Although, I do sneak in a vague half-second of Klausper at the end...)

Edvard wasn't sure how he'd gotten himself into this.

Parties were fine, he didn't have a problem with parties. But this wasn't just any party, not for him at least. Edvard knew that making good connections was important, that's why he was here, and having that thought at the back of his mind was making it almost impossible for him to relax and have a good time. He felt like he was on display for a crowd of spectators who were far above his station and knew it.

His family had climbed the ladder of financial and social success relatively recently and there was only so far he could get on a name with such a new reputation. He’d gotten this far in life mostly through his own hard work and academic excellence.

He hadn't been out of the academy long before he'd shown some obvious promise and had found himself something of a mentor in a former postmaster. A man who, though retired, kept a close eye on the workings of the postal service and who's opinion was still highly regarded.

This one night somehow felt far more challenging than all his years at the academy combined.

Edvard had passed the night so far by making polite conversation with a number of older ladies and gentleman who were more than happy to listen to him talk business and to have the opportunity to tell their own stories of success from their younger days. It wasn’t his ideal way to pass an evening, but it was comfortable enough company.

However, once his mentor spotted him he quickly made it clear that Edvard should be trying to make connections with people closer to his own age. The young heirs and heiresses to these old names and estates who would be the ones calling the shots by the time Edvard had made something of himself.

This couldn’t have been further outside of the young man’s comfort zone. Even his own family had called him an “old soul” ever since he was a child, and he’d always found it hard to relate to his own peers.

The man introduced him to a group of young men and women from families with old money and long histories. But out of all of them, Dahlia’s name would be the only one he would remember after that night. She was the first of the group to respond to his introduction.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eddie. Can I call you Eddie?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.” Edvard said, tensely. No one in his entire life had ever called him _Eddie_ , not even his parents, and the most he ever got from his mentor was the occasional “my boy”.

“Oh, alright then _Edvard_.” She replied in a tone almost scandalously mocking, but her friends just snickered and tittered at the exchange before moving on.

Edvard found he didn’t have much to add to their conversation, they seemed to be able to say an awful lot about parties and clothes and long vacations. All things he could appreciate, just not exactly the kinds of things he put a lot of thought into.

“We took a trip to the beach last month and I saw these lovely little hairpins while out shopping with my mother.” Said a girl in green. “I didn’t buy them at the time. They were some cheap imported things, the shop had dozens of the exact same ones, but of course I regretted it anyways. And guess what?” She asked, not giving anyone time for a real reply. “I saw the exact same ones in a shop just downtown this week, but they’d raised the price! It wasn’t by much, but still, it’s the principal of the thing. I might as well just have them sent to me straight from the oceanfront.”

“You really wouldn’t be saving much money that way.” Edvard said, trying not to sound too eager for the chance to talk about something he was actually knowledgeable about.

“Oh? And why is that?” She asked.

“The difference in price is probably a direct result of the added cost of shipping goods further inland.” He explained. “The shops most likely have their wares shipped in bulk and are therefore spending less per item shipped. It would cost more in the long run for you to have a single item sent to you directly.”

“Ah, I see.” Said the young lady, regarding him quietly for a moment before starting a new topic of conversation with the gentleman next to her.

He continued to try and be an active participant in the conversation whenever he felt he had something relevant to add. This mostly took a very _informative_ form. Tricks he knew for doing mental math quickly, rough estimates of the percentage of imported goods versus exported in the last year, and an amusing anecdote from his early days just out of the academy about how a small spelling error on a package had caused an incident that wasn’t resolved for months.

Eventually he noticed that most of the others were, as politely as possible, ignoring his contributions to the conversation. All except for Dahlia, who would snicker and giggle at almost everything he said. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

"I'm sorry," He said, addressing her directly. He'd barely said two words this time before she'd demurely tried to hide a sudden fit of giggles and a huge smile behind her glass. "If I've said something I shouldn't have, perhaps it's time I was going. I don't believe I've been the best company for you this evening."

“Oh, no no no. Please continue! We really appreciate all the math and the-” She snorted, trying to hold back another fit of laughter. “The spelling. It’s all numbers and letters in that head of yours, isn’t it?”

-

Her words echoed in his mind long after he’d left the party.

_It's all numbers and letters in that head of yours, isn't it?_

What was that supposed to mean? What other way was there to think?

-

It was only a few weeks later when Edvard once again found himself horribly out of his depth, this time at a Sunday afternoon garden party. His mentor seemed determined to take him from simply being a respectable young man of the working class to a fixture of high society, and he seemed convinced these gatherings were the way to do it.

He found himself being gradually herded away from the more business-minded older guests, who liked discussing things like the recent increase in postal fees and the rate of his own personal progress, and closer to the loud and silly young people who were supposedly his peers.

He didn’t fight it this time, it seemed to be an inevitability of these events that he would have to try and ingratiate himself with people who cared very little about what he was doing or what he had to say.

It only took a small hint from the old postmaster to point him in the direction of some young ladies seated in the shade. He didn't notice they were the same women from the other night until he was close enough to hear them talking. It seemed to be a very lopsided conversation, Dahlia on one side and the rest of the girls on the other.

“Oh, you don’t mean that guy we met last Saturday do you? You can’t mean him! He made such a fool of himself!” The woman to her left exclaimed.

“He really is a very silly man, talking about figures and math even at a party!” Said the next girl over. “But that’s the problem with men like that, they only ever think about their work.”

“And if they aren’t,” Added another young lady. “They really should be.”

“Exactly!” The first girl agreed. “There’s just no winning!”

Edvard tried not to give into the creeping suspicion that they were speaking about him, but he couldn’t recall any other young men talking about math on that particular night. His suspicions weren’t helped by the fact that the entire group grew very quiet as he approached them.

"Oh look Dolly, it's the Man with the Clockwork Mind!" One of the young ladies suddenly said, quite loudly, pointing her fan at him while looking at Dahlia’s face intently.

Edvard furrowed his brow.

"Oh, ignore them!" Dahlia told him, shooting the other girl a dirty look. "They have the most beautiful garden here, you must see it and I would love the opportunity to stretch my legs a bit. Walk with me?"

"Of course." He accepted automatically, letting her take his arm. He didn't know what else to do.

They both pretended not to hear the snickering and whispering behind their backs as they walked away.

They walked together in silence for a while, or as close to silence as they could manage. Edvard walked in silence. Dahlia seemed to have a comment for every statue and hedge and tree they passed. Edvard didn't even have the time to consider if he should reply or not before she'd moved on to the next object of her interest.

She was surprisingly knowledgeable about the various ornaments that decorated the edges of the garden. Many of the statues and sculptures had quite a history and had been purchased for prices that Edvard personally found a bit shocking. He was no stranger to some of the finer things in life, but he wasn’t used to numbers like that being attached to a single, privately owned item.

When he managed to get a word in Edvard asked how she knew so much about the decorations of someone else’s garden. To which Dahlia told him that she had always had a fondness for the arts, even as a child, and was always kept up to date on any interesting pieces acquired by friends of her family.

“You can ask me about any statue, sculpture, tapestry, or carving in these old houses.” She told him proudly. “But painting is my true love.”

Dahlia also knew quite a bit about the living decorations of the garden as well. Apparently, many of the plants had been imported. She knew the country of origin for each and gushed about what an impressive job the gardeners had done getting them to thrive here.

He had to admit, he was more than a little impressed, and not just by the garden.

They stopped together in a spot absolutely bursting with thriving flowers. So densely packed that there was barely even a path to walk on. A perfect example of controlled chaos.

"Oh, but wouldn't it be so much prettier with a bit of yellow?" She asked, eyes scanning the sprawling array of blue and pink and purple flowers.

He wasn't sure what difference it would make and didn't want to admit to her that his own aesthetic taste was actually much more muted and orderly. But as he watched her face, intently studying the vibrant blooms, he found himself agreeing that a touch of yellow might be nice.

-

Early the next day, before breakfast, before she'd even dressed herself fully, Dahlia heard her father calling from the entryway.

"Dahlia dear, there's a delivery here for you!"

She quickly made herself presentable and rushed down the stairs.

"For me?" She asked. "What is it?"

“It’s on the table, have a look.”

There on the table was a large bouquet of bright yellow dahlias, the big round blossoms were unmistakable. It was a simple thing with only the one type of flower, but it was vibrant and beautiful. As she ran her fingers over the tender petals she noticed the small note attached. It read,

_It would be a shame for you to have to work with an incomplete palette. - Eddie_

“Oh, he’s such a _dork!_ ” She exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear.

“Is there something I should know about?” Her father asked.

“Maybe.” She said, choosing to ignore her father’s slight frown and instead continued looking at that ridiculous little note. “Very possibly.”

-

Edvard wasn't sure how he'd gotten himself into this.

He’d gone to Dahlia's home today to tell her they needed to take things slower. That he needed to see her less in order to properly focus on his work because he was expecting to find himself promoted to a very respectable position soon which could ensure them both a more than comfortable future together. They would just need to be patient. The two of them had been spending a lot of time together over the last few months and people were bound to notice. They would both probably benefit from a little time apart.

He had been reciting what he was going to tell her in his head as he came up the front walk, but then he heard,

“Eddie! Eddie, come in!”

There she was, waving to him from the window, and suddenly those thoughts could wait a little longer.

This day wasn’t going how he’d planned it. He should have written to her or waited until they just happened to run into each other again, anything other than go to her home. But now he found himself in her studio, listening to her go on about the recent trip she’d taken with her parents as she painted something with beautiful rivers and waterfalls inspired by their sightseeing.

He listened as she huffed and tsked over her recent work, apparently not completely satisfied with the results.

"Here," She said. "Look at the water, it's just not what I had hoped it would be. The colors don't blend the way I want them to. It doesn’t reflect the rivers natural beauty at all."

“Well I think it’s very pretty.” He said, moving to stand behind her and get a closer look.

“Oh, but I want it to be more than just pretty!” She exclaimed. “I want it to feel like, well, something! It should have some kind of _feeling_ to it!”

Edvard looked over her shoulder. He tried to see what she was unhappy with, he really did. Maybe it was just his limited knowledge of the arts but to him it was simply beautiful.

Dahlia continued pointing out the perceived faults in her work until something she was much happier with caught her eye and she lit up like the sun as she discussed the technique she’d used and described to him one of her favorite pieces from the artist who had recently popularized it.

“Oh, you really have to see it to understand! I mean, of course you’d have to see it! It’s a painting!” She said, laughing at her own words as she turned towards him.

For once in his life Edvard didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He simply leaned down to meet her and pressed his lips to hers. It was barely even a kiss, just a soft touch of their lips.

He immediately reeled back as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“I’m sorry! That was terribly forward of me.” He said, his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Dahlia just laughed at him. “I really thought I’d be the one to do that!”

The young man peeked from behind his fingers.

“And if you keep making such a fuss about it my father’s going to hear.” She teased him.

Edvard jumped back a whole two feet further away from her.

"I'm joking you worrywart! He's not even home!" Dahlia laughed.

She crossed the floor, took his face in her hands and pulled it down to her own.

-

Thirty years later, give or take, in a snow covered cabin nestled away in the woods a man was showing his mother around and doing one of his favorite things.

Complaining about someone he actually loved very much.

"We were in here the other day and I told him 'I think there's a draft somewhere in the kitchen' and he just said 'Oh, I took care of that this morning'." Jesper said, gesturing animatedly around the small kitchen. "He just jumps in and takes care of everything! Which I know sounds nice, but I'd just like to hear 'Thank you Jesper! I never would've noticed this on my own! What would I do without you?' from time to time. Y'know?"

"Oh that sounds so much like your father!" His mother laughed. "Always looking for a problem to solve."

Jesper opened and closed his mouth wordlessly for a moment, his brow slowly furrowing.

"Mom, I don't think I like that comparison."

"Oh, your Dad was such a dork when we first got together!" She said, pretending not to hear her son. "Did I ever tell you how we first met?"

"Yes Mom," He told her, smiling indulgently. "But why don't you tell me again?"

He knew she would anyways.

"Well," She began, making herself comfortable at the kitchen table. "It may not be as _exciting_ as how you and Klaus met, but I still think it's a pretty good story."

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I was looking up types of yellow flowers while writing this and discovered that in the Victorian era dahlias were used to symbolize commitment, marriage, and everlasting bonds! How perfect is that!? I honestly wasn't even going to use dahlias until I saw that!  
> They were also commonly used to symbolize Elegance, Dignity, and Strength.


End file.
